


who I was (who I'll never be again)

by SaraJaye



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Future, Established Relationship, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, The Future Past Timeline, first kill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 17:12:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14140686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraJaye/pseuds/SaraJaye
Summary: You had no choice,his logical self keeps telling him.He wasn't himself anymore. You did him a favor.But Inigo knows he's changed, and he's not sure he can accept this change in himself.





	who I was (who I'll never be again)

_You had no choice. It was either you or him, you don't have your parents to protect you now. Even Basilio and Flavia are gone, and none of them would want you to roll over and die. You had no choice._

He grips the blade's hilt in shaking hands, squeezes his eyes shut to stem the threat of tears and block the sight of the corpse at his feet. _You had no choice. You knew what you were in for when you took up the sword._ But even the cold, hard facts aren't enough to quell the nausea, ease the crushing sensation in his chest. _It was still a life. A Risen still used to be a real person, and some of them still might be underneath._

Inigo's knuckles ache as he grips the hilt harder, and the deep breaths he tries to take to calm himself are tainted by the scent of blood. He swallows, thankfully managing not to be sick, and turns away. _It was you or him, it had to be done, you knew what taking up this path meant._

He runs as far away as he can from the body, from the man he could swear he recognized just a split second before he drew his blade. One of Ferox's soldiers, a nice man with a family, with children Inigo had sometimes played with, a wife who-

_Stop it!_ The sick feeling rose in his stomach again. _It doesn't matter who he was, he wasn't that person anymore!_

He sinks to his knees beside the stream, one of the few clean ones left now. He drops his blade, splashes the icy water on his face, and tries to calm himself. _You did him a favor. He was suffering, he wasn't even a person anymore. All you did was put him out of his misery._

Inigo swallows, burying his face in his hands.

_**You** put him out of his misery. **You** ended his life._

It's that one aspect he can't let go of, that _he_ was the one to personally end a life. It was a life barely worth living anymore, the kind soldier turned into a mindless walking corpse, but it was still a _life._ Someone he'd _known._

He slowly stands, making his way back to the tent he shares with Owain. His stomach tightens at the thought of his partner; while being close to Owain is usually a comfort, he's almost certain the change in him will be apparent the second he walks in.

"Hey." Owain's greeting is subdued, rare for him and very disquieting.

"We should be safe," Inigo says, trying to make normal conversation. "I checked the area, and there aren't any Risen left." He sits down on his sleeping pallet, tugging off his boots. They're filthy, and his shirt is torn across the left shoulder. "How are the others?"

"Inigo." Owain's hand lays across his shoulder, and Inigo tenses. "You did it, didn't you?" Inigo doesn't know whether to laugh or cry at that.

"So it's true. Once you take your first life, everyone can see the change in you."

"Only those who know you," Owain says quietly. "And those who've done the same."

"Yet the first time you killed, you were still the same outlandish actor you've always been." A weak attempt at teasing that barely gets a reaction out of Owain. His arm wraps around Inigo's shoulders, a weak smile crosses his face.

"You know why, Inigo of the Azure Skies." Inigo manages a tiny smile. That nickname, given to him when they were children, now feels like an elaborate pet name. One he cherishes, because hearing it is a sign that not _everything_ has changed.

"I understand more than ever why you keep up the charade. As for me...well, we both know I've never been much of an actor."

"Even if you were, I can read you like a book." Owain's fingertips rub his covered shoulder, his breath warm against Inigo's neck. "I won't try to convince you nothing's changed, because we all know that's a lie. The only ones who can say they're still the same..."

"Are the ones who've never been on the battle lines," Inigo finishes quietly. Noire, frail and sickly even though her mother had taught her the basics of archery before she died. Brady, who can only heal the wounded from the sidelines. Cynthia, who desperately longs to be a hero but was constantly shielded by Lucina. Yarne, who would rather run and hide than fight. "But their turn will come."

"Exactly." Owain sighs. "Every day is a fight for survival, old friend. Navigating the wasteland that was once our home, trying to honor our parents' dying wishes and _live_ even though all most of us want to do is avenge them."

"And preserve their memories," Inigo murmurs. "Mother and I never finished that dance...we were planning the last steps the day before she went into battle with Flavia."

"And my father...without Uncle Chrom to protect, he put all his energy into keeping me and Mother safe. You'd think arrows would be nothing to his armor, but..." Owain smiles sadly. "We all thought our parents were invincible, once."

It seems like a lifetime ago that they believed their parents could do anything and come back safe. Where all they had to worry about was coming to dinner on time with clean hands, or making friends. Now the only friends they have are each other, and it's getting harder to tell where their next meal will come from as their supplies slowly begin to run out.

"We lost our innocence the day Chrom died, didn't we?" Inigo realizes. "All this time everyone's just been pretending until it's their turn to face reality." He buries his cheek against Owain's shoulder, closing his eyes, and he feels Owain's fingers in his hair.

"Pretty much."

"We'll never get it back. Even if we somehow manage to kill Grima and save the world tomorrow...even Naga herself can't bring them back." He'd once asked Noire's father, before he died, and the only answer he'd gotten was a sad smile. "Mother..."

"All we can do now is keep living. That's all they wanted, it's why they gave their lives." Owain pulls him down onto the sleeping pallet, tugging a blanket up over them. "Get some sleep, okay? Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow morning." Inigo can't help a tiny smile, Owain really does take after his father.

"Stay with me."

"I won't leave your side for anything, I promise."

They lie tangled in each other's arms, drawing whatever heat they can from each other's bodies to compensate for the thinning blanket. Before he falls asleep, Inigo bids a quick farewell to the last shred of his innocence he'd struggled to keep for so long. Childhood is over, and tomorrow, they must continue their battle.


End file.
